


The Mandalorian Job

by softly_speaking_valkyrie



Series: Love Across the Stars [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Porn, Angst to come, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erotica, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Lekku Sexual Play (Star Wars), Love Triangles, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Prison, Relationship Problems, Smut, The Force, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_speaking_valkyrie/pseuds/softly_speaking_valkyrie
Summary: Following Order 66 and the first Empire Day, Ahsoka disappears into the Outer Rim with Trace and Rafa amidst the chaos of the ending of the Clone Wars. Low on supplies and in need of a job or cargo, the former-Jedi suggests to travel to Kijimi and start to assemble some form of life with the two Martez sisters. Madly in love with Trace and wanting to protect her has become the Togruta's top priority, however as the Silver Angel arrives in the Outer Rim, a data packet is downloaded into the ship's communications suite - a directive for Ahsoka using encryption used in the 7th Sky Corps. Wanting to keep her lover safe and facing threats from every angle in the galaxy, Ahsoka must choose between fully disappearing from the first Galactic Empire and giving her aid to her Mandalorian friends, whom so desperately need her help in rescuing Bo-Katan from Imperial detention...
Relationships: Rafa Martez/Ahsoka Tano, Trace Martez/Ahsoka Tano
Series: Love Across the Stars [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756282
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Adrift

**Author's Note:**

> A direct sequel to my fics 'Defeat in Victory' and also 'With A Trace Hope', in which I tell how Ahsoka and Rex handled the first Empire Day and the downfall of the Republic swiftly after surviving Order 66. Please enjoy my continued bullshit of how Ahsoka will systematically have sex with as many named female characters in her era of the canon and non-canon timeline as it takes for someone to tell me to stop. 
> 
> Here we have more Tracesoka because I might have been the only person who walked away from Clone Wars Season 7 viewing them as soulmates. But how will Rafa conduct herself once she discovers she's also developing a crush on the Togruta?
> 
> For clarity's sake I'm inferring in this that both Ahsoka and Trace are nineteen still. Rafa would be somewhere in her mid twenties.

The rations were running out at a semi-alarming rate, Rafa thought as she rounded the corner from the cargo hold, a small protein stick in her hand that tastes somehow worse than the majority of the garbage she had grown up eating in the underbelly of Coruscant. One of the reprogrammed maintenance droids beeped as it hovered about her, forcing her to wave it from her face and back into the hold. The hum of the hyperdrive overtook the noise of whatever else she’d usually hear as the older Martez made her way toward the cockpit.

One idea her younger sister had had better than the most the three passengers of the _Silver Angel_ had been to practically point the _Nebula_ -class freighter directly down the Perlemian Trade Route and pick an outback system at the base. Kijimi seemed the best of the small cluster laying at the exit of the trading corridor, and many more traders and military vessels would use the Corellian Run to reach the Outer Rim. Ahsoka had backed up what Rafa’s sister had boasted of Kijimi being a rough moon, with smugglers and traders and mercenaries alike – she’d been there during a few of the campaigns of the Clone Wars.

Rafa stopped, thinking of the two weeks since the three of them had piled into the _Silver Angel_ and fled the capital. Chancellor, no Emperor, Palpatine’s address to the Senate still burned its way into Rafa’s memory, playing on repeat and doing its best to erode her hope even now.

It had been the swaying factor for the older Martez, the key change in the Republic above them that had told Rafa they needed to leave. Now, chewing on the stick of almost pure protein with almost no flavouring, she was beginning to wonder if it had been a mistake. But no, it couldn’t be – Ahsoka needed help again, and Rafa knew that as bad as things would become in the unstable Outer Rim, they would not compare to what was taking shape on the capital. She had been looking in via the one uplink Trace had established to the HoloNet.

She and Ahsoka had been in the small cargo compartment they’d renovated into a small living space for the pair of them. Rafa had made sure to surf and watch the HoloNet in the two days after they left Coruscant just in case. It had still been a terrible idea. Rafa had held no affinity for the Jedi Order, but she did have some love in her heart for Ahsoka now, because she knew Trace did too.

Watching the Grand Vizier, Mas Amedda and some of the Coruscant Guard Clone Troopers host the rally, with a huge kiln at the base of the Jedi Temple, filled with the Jedi’s lightsabers, all of them burning – Rafa had even cried.

The Purge was well and truly real. She and Trace would have to protect Ahsoka with all they had now, especially as they traversed into the Outer Rim.

The protein stick made her grimace, Rafa jerking when she concentrated on the stale and extremely bland taste of it hitting the back of her throat. She almost gagged in reflex, hearing the hum of Hyperspace all around her in the mostly empty ship. The stocks of the rations and supplies they had left read a little grim picture – she knew they would need to take any job they could find upon reaching Kijimi, and thus she hoped that Ahsoka’s retelling of the small system was still true. It had only been two weeks and yet their limited stocks of supplies were beginning to dwindle. Rafa checked her workings, going over the lists again and coming to the same conclusion. She wrapped the ration stick back into its paper wrappings and stowed it in her pocket. Crossing the corridor towards the cockpit, she came across the room Trace as now sharing with Ahsoka (Rafa herself either slept in the cockpit anyway or in a small cot she’d established in the other cargo compartment in the more aft sections of the ship. Quickly thinking, Rafa hoped they could make more credits to continue renovating the whole freighter into a mobile home. She was about to knock on the bulkhead hatch but paused, hearing noises coming from within.

A jolt of disbelief shot through the older Martez.

Trace’s ragged breath filled the black interior of the private cabin she and her Togruta partner had fashioned out of the small auxiliary cargo compartment. Her claws dug into the soft and tender red-orange flesh of Ahsoka, whose body surrounded her utterly. Jedi fingers wrapped around Trace’s beautiful brown skin, holding her steady as they tumbled on the workbench that doubled up as table and Ahsoka breathed her serenity while continuing to make her lover moan. They had no bed yet, no actual frame or metal slab that could work, only the two hammocks they’d strung together before leaving Coruscant.

“Ahsoka...” The younger Martez softly moaned, rocking her head back when her lover met her blow. The Togruta pressed her hips forward, the shared member vibrating gently and forcing incredible waves of pleasure throughout the young mechanic and former Jedi both.

With every breath came another push, another slight and slender movement from her partner causing Trace’s body to rail and jolt against Ahsoka’s. Her hands stretched around her partner, trying to clutch and hold her closer, a burning need growing and stoking within her like a solar flare. The hum of the engines, of the hyperdrive and the ship hurtling further down the Perlemian Trade Route lulled the intrepid mechanic deeper into a haze. Ahsoka’s face above her vision, eyes entranced in rapture with her partner made it all the sweeter. The Togruta moaned in retort, her fingers gracing Trace’s cheek in a harmonic display. Trace cooed back, holding her lover’s hand and kissing her fingertips before they met eyes again.

“You’re incredible...” Trace moaned once more. “Don’t stop, Ahsoka...” She wetly begged, her lips ragged and her tongue a little cotton-mouthed. She had to quickly swallow, catching her breath.

“I’m right here, Trace... Stars, you feel good.”

There came a swift rasping against the bulkhead door, incessant knocking in quick succession that immediately killed the air of beautiful euphoria between the two lovers. Trace clung to Ahsoka, trying to hold her close and not let her go but the knocking continued.

“We’re coming up on Kijimi, ladies... Ten minutes and I want you in the cockpit, okay?” Came Rafa’s voice, more than a little embarrassed from what she had no doubt been hearing on her way down the corridor.

Ahsoka jerked against Trace, still inside of her with the gentle and swelling vibrations forcing one smaller moan from the mechanic. Her grip tightened against Ahsoka’s naked back; darker fingers dug into the darker orange flesh of the Togruta, making her wince. “G-Got it!” Ahsoka cried out towards the door, hoping now that Rafa would simply leave for the cockpit while her younger sister clawed into her own flesh.

“Get lost Rafa!” Trace yelled from underneath, still trying to move around Ahsoka. Her hands began to slip and move around her body, lips coming to her lover’s neck.

“Ten minutes, Trace! I need someone at the helm!”

“Okay, ten minutes! We’re coming!”

“I really don’t want to know, Trace!”

“Could you both not?” Ahsoka butted in once again, her eyes and browline furrowing as Trace’s teeth grazed her collarbone and the lower half of her neck. She twitched into her lover’s mouth and the mechanic dug into her body with ravenous want, as well as playful fervour that forced the Togruta to let go and let them both fall back onto the durasteel of the workbench top.

“What was that?” Rafa yelled back into the room over the hum of the hyperdrive and Trace trying to have at her lover despite the presence of her older sister just beyond the threshold of the bulkhead door.

“Rafa!” The younger Martez bellowed even louder. "Go! Totally busy here!"

Ahsoka pinned her eyes shut out of the embarrassment she now felt and finally Trace stopped her advances on her until they both heard Rafa’s footsteps ringing out against the lower bulkheads. Both partners smiled, finally free from Rafa and her interruptions. There was a pause, but Ahsoka found her feet and her need again as Trace wrapped her arms around her reminded the former Jedi of her presence. She was here, still here, after two weeks and they were both still in each other’s lives. They were both alive despite it all, as the galaxy silently changed all around them on their slingshot into the Outer Rim. It would be hard to survive out there, but all three women knew it would be better than trying to survive in the underbelly of the capital with the main body of the Grand Army of the Republic returning from all the war fronts. Ahsoka had guessed that Maul had been telling the truth – Palpatine had been Darth Sidious the entire time and had played both sides of the war from the start. Once the Jedi had been exterminated aside from Ahsoka, he had ordered the Droid Armies to stand down. The Republic had won the Clone Wars, which meant the Empire had won.

Now, Trace was all Ahsoka officially had left in her life, trying to make a new one. She leaned down, still naked and still hovering over her lover. With all her might she kissed the mechanic softly and lovingly on her lips, owning them and reminding her partner of her presence.

“Ten minutes, huh?” The Togruta asked; her smile sly, her gaze more than a little coy and shrouded in want. 

“Nu-huh,” Trace hummed as she shuffled in place, sitting up on the balls of her elbows before her lover. She removed the instrument between them and flipped their laying positions until she was straddling her Togruta former-Jedi. Ahsoka smiled, holding Trace by her hips as the mechanic mounted her momentarily. “My turn, I think...”

Just as quickly as she had turned the tables to straddle the Force-user Trace slipped down her front, kissing Ahsoka on the lips and then her chin. “What are doing?” The Togruta gasped a little as her lover tantalised her senses with delicate touches along the interior curve of her thighs and then up to between her legs. They were both plenty wet Ahsoka growing more so by the second as the mechanic littered her lips down her neck and to her exposed orange collarbone. Ten minutes was more than enough time to finish what they had started, and Trace was handling Ahsoka was slightly hungry care that showed she wanted to do her part. Her lover’s breasts were perky, nipples like small but pointed peaks for Trace to clasp her lips around and suckle to ensure another moan. Ahsoka’s body hitched and jolted under her as her fingers arrived at their destination – the sodden flesh between the Togruta’s legs trembled at her touch, clean folds soft and fleshy and slathered in wetness. Trace breathed against her lover’s skin, Ahsoka soon falling into a small mess of gentle moans and rampant breathing under the sound of her own voice. Her fingers glided over the shaven rear of Trace’s hair, guiding her crown down and down.

As her tongue arrived at slick arousal, Trace seemed to cross her fingers holding Ahsoka’s thigh and licked a smooth and slender motion from the base of the entrance before. The tip of her determination lingered against the beading throb of her lover’s wet need, and Ahsoka cried out louder than before. Trace, hearing the echo of her name thrice and smothered in hot release, counted her blessings, and fell into step. She used the backdrop of the humming of her Hyperdrive to dictate her rhythm.

Movements of Ahsoka around Trace made her smile; the Togruta’s legs squirmed as she played her games with the slick up and down of her eager tongue. The knot of her lover’s arousal causing her to moan in repetition only Trace’s name and more affectionate echoes to keep her doing whatever she was. The mechanic licked with glee, burying the tip of her tongue occasionally between the beautiful orange flesh of her partner’s slick folds, both parted in blossoming pleasure and wet to the taste with excess of Ahsoka’s needy encouragement. Each delving into her lover’s font only brought sharper and more bereft speech from the Togruta. Her lekku sank down her body, draping gorgeously over her naked breasts. Trace’s fingers grew bolder in her sensual stealth. Ahsoka was hostage when the grace of the mechanic’s touch found her headtails gently nuzzling the tips of her white and blue lekku with caring fingers to only exacerbate what the darker-skinned flyer was delivering down below.

“Trace...” Ahsoka moaned gradually away with her own pleasure the more she borrowed from her lover’s fingers and expert yet devilish tongue.

“What’s up?” The mechanic whispered, almost stopping dead in her tracks thinking something was wrong by the gravity in her moaning lover’s voice. The tone of Ahsoka’s exhales was heavy to say the least, clouded with a cotton-mouthed desperation that mixed with the sweat drying on her smooth tummy. It made her orange flesh glisten even in the dark of their shared abode.

“Don’t... Don’t stop, Trace... Don’t stop...” Ahsoka begged. “ _Stars_ , you feel amazing right there,” she continued to wail as soon as she felt the tip of her partner’s tongue lavishing over her wet folds once again. More and more the pounding throb of her arousal knotted tight within her core, making her stomach somersault and her legs want to shake. They were, as well as Ahsoka’s fingers as she tried to wipe the sweat from her brow, catching the crest of her montrals where her olden crownlet covered the seam between soft cartilage of beautiful blue-white and her deep skin of sandy orange. “Oh, right _there_...”

The turnover of the _Silver Angel_ all around her took her further, emboldening the movements of Trace’s tongue as it toyed with the small font of Ahsoka’s knotted want. Her sex betrayed her, and the alien reached out with the Force like second nature, feeling everything of Trace she could.

“I’m coming, Trace! _Stars_ , I’m coming!”

Ten minutes turned to honey as she washed away into orgasm in no time. Trace’s tongue felt the brunt of her release as she lost all sense of self, and Ahsoka felt the curling lips of her lover’s smile form against her want as the mechanic drank every last drop she could give her.

* * *

_The Republic will be reorganised... into the first Galactic Empire! For a safe... and securer... society!_

Rafa turned it off, trying to push Coruscant and hanger Thirteen-Thirteen far from her mind. It would matter anymore once they all hit the obscurity of the Outer Rim and fell into step with the rest of the galaxy. The new ‘Galactic Empire’ would have as much weight to throw around in that region as the old Republic did. Ahsoka had the smarts and the experience in that region of space to get the three of them around and Rafa knew she could smooth-talk her way into whatever job they needed to take to stay fed and keep a steady stream of credits rolling through the ship. She knew that Trace wanted to start tinkering and upgrading the _Silver Angel_ already. The freighter still needed work around the interior and even some improvements to the hull in addition. Ahsoka had made remarks about outfitting the remaining subsystems with some form of weapon complement and while Trace hadn’t committed to the idea, Rafa knew it would be a good idea if they were operating among the lawless.

“How many times are you going to watch that recording?” Ahsoka asked behind her.

She didn’t like as she had done when they left Coruscant, not like Rafa could tell she was looking now (even without the usage of a mirror). Being with Trace made the Togruta look alive again, much better than she had done since landing on the hangar in the blue-coloured Y-Wing with her ragged looking Clone Commander. Rafa turned back to see the close up of Chancellor Palpatine’s now decrepit and mutated face, the wrinkles looking like lightning bolts all way across and up and down his face. What had happened to the old father of democracy?

“As long as it takes to sink in, I guess... How’s Trace?”

“She’s fine, she’ll be here in a moment,” Ahsoka reported, taking her place in the pilot’s chair while her partner was absent from the cockpit. Rafa looked tired, more so than the Togruta had seen her before, the older Martez letting her walls down out of pure exhaustion; next to her Ahsoka could see the altered visage of Palpatine. She couldn’t see him anymore.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the Republic,” Ahsoka found herself asking, having never really brought up the topic of Rafa’s involvement in the system she had lived in. Since first meeting both of the Martez sisters months ago, Ahsoka could tell that Rafa’s stronger beliefs had informed and fed into her sister’s weaker version of them. Believing the Jedi had started the war was simply a betrayal of fact and reality, and Ahsoka had been able to tell that Trace hadn’t really thought that since first meeting her. “Why keep watching him give that address if it’s nothing you really put your faith in?”

“Because it’s wrong!” Rafa spat back at her. “I didn’t believe in the Republic or what it stood in but I can still tell that refusing to let go of power is wrong, Ahsoka... He doesn’t have any right to do what he’s done... to the Separatists, to civilians across the galaxy... to the Jedi.”

Ahsoka went completely silent, the emotion of the loss of the Order reading as still fresh and certainly unaddressed on her alien face. Rafa could tell that not only hadn’t Ahsoka thought about it in depth since coming aboard the _Silver Angel_ , but that she was trying not to at all to save herself. The older Martez found some stock in having a similar grief in her as Ahsoka had now, of losing all sense of family the woman had ever known, but it was not a comforting feeling to Rafa. She wished that her friend didn’t have to feel the way she did – even if they both did still have Trace in their lives. The bond that Jedi held for each other, from the tradition of Master and Apprentice to just their fellow Temple residents. Rafa could tell it was a creed of platonic bedfellows and championed friends unlike many other organisations in the free galaxy. The only other group that stood out in Rafa’s mind was the Clone Army and how Rex had seemed about his fellow soldiers for the day that she had met him. In that way it felt supremely ironic that one band would be wiped out by the usage of another. Ironic, and extremely cruel.

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka,” Rafa added. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s not my place.”

The Togruta shot her an estranged look. “You’ve changed a lot since I first met you both on Coruscant,” she noted, a soft and small smile forming from her lips.

“I guess so... Heh, looks like you made an impression on me after all. Never thought I'd be acting like a Jedi one day. Thank you.”

“For that I am glad, Rafa... And don’t worry about the Order,” Ahsoka told her in faith, turning to gaze out into the bright vortex of Hyperspace as they hurtled ever closer to the Outer Rim and the freer region of the galaxy. To Kijimi where they could all disappear. “I foresee that this will not be the end of the Jedi, as much as Chancellor Palpatine wants it to be – his trap will not have worked on all of the Jedi out there, and once he brings a sense of stability to his new Empire... I’ll find them if they don’t find me first, that is,” she almost tried to joke.

Rafa took faith in that at least. Ahsoka seemed relatively at peace, or looked it as best she could – Rafa didn’t need to be a Jedi or even be Force-sensitive to see that dealing with it or even thinking about it was threatening to throw the Togruta out of balance. Whatever that meant to her, the older Martez didn’t know, but she could feel her friend’s pain across the cockpit.

Reaching out she took Ahsoka’s hand. It was the first time she’d rally, firmly, made contact with the woman. It felt as if all of Rafa’s body became slightly more alive as she felt the softness of Ahsoka’s alien orange flesh. Was that the Force? The older woman checked the status of the flight computer, seeing the mass of the _Silver Angel_ hitting the proximity band of the Kijimi system and in a further few seconds of staring at it in awkward silence, passing into the range of the planet itself. Trace tumbled beyond the threshold of the cockpit door just in time as the navicomputer pinged out in audible alert of their arrival at Kijimi.

“Looks like I’m here just in time,” the mechanic and pilot smiled, shifting into the pilot’s chair as Ahsoka made room for her. “Rafa, hold that down there,” she motioned to one of the levers as she lurched to the front of the dashboard and gripped the Hyperspace control rods pulling them down and letting her freighter slow on its own. Ahsoka watched diligently as the blue vortex of lightspeed began to flutter and fizzle out into starlines.

She held her breath, sensing immediate threat in the back of her mind, enough to make her whole body tingle with quicksilver apprehension. Danger.

The starlines dragged back along the length of the cockpit’s viewport and all at once the huge planetoid of Kijimi came into colossal view along with its space traffic. All that was in immediate sight were a few floating trading vessels of varying sizes. The _Silver Angel_ had dropped out of lightspeed a little too close to the planet than what Ahsoka as used to but Trace seemed confident as she took her hands off of the control rods and handled the flight controls with cool easiness. Rafa swivelled in her chair to the right, observing the scanner cluster reminding Ahsoka to do the same with the sensor sweeper she had taken as her own station. She couldn’t fathom what compelled her to scan (perhaps her old military training was still firmly engrained in her psyche and refusing to go anywhere yet) but Ahsoka flipped the process and all colour almost drained from her face when she spotted the familiar profile of an _Acclamator_ -class Republic Transport ship coming onto her screen.

“What in the Force is that?” She heard Rafa asking. Turning she spotted both the older Martez and her younger sister with their faces to the window pane observing as the Acclamator slowly hulked over them at a faster speed.

“The former Grand Army of the Republic...” Ahsoka alluded.

“What? Why are the Clones here? They can’t be this far out into the Outer Rim already? It’s only been a couple of weeks since the war ended!” Rafa barked in disbelief.

“Sidious is cleaning house,” Ahsoka settled, walking from her station to behind Trace and watching the aft of the smaller cruiser pass them with its two massive thrusters burning brightly in a once friendly blue hue. “He’s been cleaning it since ‘Empire Day’; I guess he’s really putting the Clones to work now, trying to secure as much territory for his new Empire as he can while the Separatist worlds are still leaderless and without droids to defend themselves.”

Trace almost gawped at her. “You told me Kijimi wasn’t aligned in the war... It didn’t belong to the Republic or the Separatists...”

“It didn’t,” Ahsoka reiterated more than firmly, gripping her fist.

“We got more trouble,” Rafa distracted them both; her hands and face giving all attention to the small communications panel also to her right. “There’s a data packet waiting for us, it has the ship’s flight authorisation code...”

Trace looked almost betrayed. Ahsoka looked more than determined, reaching over to Rafa and the communications station – the packet was marked as priority and encoded with an encryption that was a ghostly spectre to the former Jedi. “What’s going on here?” The pilot had to ask, taken aback by the mysticism of it all so suddenly. She as stupefied by Ahsoka and how she didn’t look surprised, but surprisingly cool about the whole thing playing out before them. Rafa looked even more incredibly the same; she seemed unphased and mostly intrigued the same as Ahsoka, even if she had the same vacancy of an idea about it all as Trace.

“It’s encrypted with a special code only used by myself and Bo-Katan; this data packet is from the Mandalorians and it’s being broadcasted from Concord Dawn,” the Togruta read off of the download as it she imputed her decryption into the message itself. “Whoever is sending this, they’re requesting to make contact with me...”

She left a pause, wanting to leave it to the room rather than say anymore. Both she and Trace were floored when it was Rafa who responded. “You have to speak with them.”

“Are you insane? Are you both insane?” Trace countered immediately, standing up from the pilot’s chair. “The Empire is gonna be monitoring the majority of communications right now, especially in and out of any system close to Mandalore. If you make contact with these Mandalorians, the Clones are gonna pick it up, and they’ll find you, Ahsoka!”

“We saw the look of those Mandalorians when they picked you up on Coruscant,” Rafa interjected. “You’re telling me those people don’t have a way to make contact with people they’re looking for without getting spied on?” She continued looking at both her sister and Ahsoka. “There must be some way.”

Ahsoka looked on the fence, hearing what Trace had to say but also identifying still with her military background and her loyalties to Bo-Katan and the Mandalorians. It had been somewhat on accident after she left the Jedi Order, but vicariously through both the Martez sisters and they escapades with the Pykes as well as even Obi-Wan, Ahsoka found herself intrinsically linked with the world of Mandalore, much like others she knew in the galaxy. There were other, more nefarious ideas slowly working through her mind as well – Ahsoka hadn’t thought of the possibilities with the besieged world before hand, but now as she thought of Bo-Katan and the world she’d left for her with Maul in custody, they all became manifest in her mind. Maul had escaped the Venator; what if he had simply returned to Mandalore and restarted the battle while Empire Day was in full swing? Even Bo-Katan had been sceptical and even fearful of the former Sith’s presence on Mandalore during the siege; his return could create even worse instability there.

Compelling camaraderie burned in Ahsoka’s heart, even as she devoted her attention to Trace, who seemed completely against the notion of engaging the message any further. The Togruta turned back to it once the decryption suite had done its job. “Find a secure long range communications method, broadcast in Fulcrum, we beg for your help,” she read off of the data download and closed down the terminal.

“Is that it?” Rafa asked incredulously.

“What’s ‘Fulcrum’?” Trace interjected following. Ahsoka moved from the screen back into her own chair and rested as much as she could with the weight suddenly back on her shoulders. “Ahsoka? More war stuff?”

She nodded. “It’s a communications channel General Kenobi used in the 7th Sky Corps, along with Commander Cody, Admiral Yularen and General Skywalker... I shared it with Bo-Katan when began planning the invasion of Mandalore only a couple of months ago.” Had it really only been under two months since she had been travelling from Coruscant under the tutelage of Bo-Katan and her Mandalorians? Had been just over two weeks since she had captured Maul and attempted to deliver him back there for the Jedi Council to interrogate? Ahsoka suddenly felt a little sick when thinking about it.

“Wait... If this Cody guy knows about it...”

“Rafa’s right,” Trace continued. “It’ll be listened to, right? The Clones will be listening in to whatever you talk about!” Her expression was pained beyond belief, the complexity of the issue spread across her beautiful face.

She was right too, only Cody was still unaware it was even still in use, or that Ahsoka had shared its use with anyone else outside of the 501st Legion and the 7th Sky Corps. But if even there was the slightest chance that he did, if the channel was as compromised as the rest of Ahsoka’s old training and tactics now were, like the rest of the Grand Army of the Republic was, everything had become a trap. Everything she had ever known to be safe was a snare now being used by Darth Sidious to destroy whatever was left of the Jedi Order. Another flip flew through Ahsoka’s stomach as she felt sick once again, and then a swift third when she thought of the counter argument – the Mandalorians. Ahsoka could tell they were in danger, perhaps more than she may be in. She thought back to Coruscant and to Rex, hopefully still alive.

_Ahsoka, it’s all of us. The whole Grand Army of the Republic has been ordered to hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights..._

The _Acclamator_ -class transport had already disappeared into Kijimi’s atmosphere and must have been either holding position and awaiting berth, or had already chosen a wide field to land in. Ahsoka remembered the main city not having a large enough hangar bay or landing zone for a transport of that size and awkward profile. There was some time to swoop into the spaceport and acquire what they needed and leave before the Clones ever knew the _Silver Angel_ had entered the system.

Faint optimism flooded Ahsoka’s bloodstream from nowhere. She looked to her lover, finding solace in her beautiful fluid brown eyes and left her chair to reach over for her. Trace offered her hands to her partner but still looked apprehensive, somehow guessing what she wanted to do while there was still time to get it done. Rafa appeared to look indifferent but her sister and the former-Jedi both knew she was already in agreement with the Togruta, whatever she was deciding.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Ahsoka...”

“As long as I’m with you, I’m not going to let that happen, Trace.” 

“There’s a long range communications panel in a cantina near the spaceport. It can reach all the way back to the Core Worlds if you need it to,” Rafa reported from her panel.

“I won’t need to talk that far,” Ahsoka joked.

“Trace can look for jobs in the Trader’s Guild at the same time,” the older Martez continued, earning a simple yet frowning look from her sister in response. “I’m the one with the blaster, short stack. I get to protect Ahsoka from the nasty Clones while she goes to make contact with the Mandalorians and while _you_ find us a haul or a cargo. And stock up on rations and supplies with whatever we have left.”

Ahsoka found herself smiling for a moment as the sisters bickered back and forth. Trace got up before long and wrapped her arms around her, the feeling bringing warmth to Ahsoka’s orange skin that she felt sorely lacking. However, her gaze tilted, and slid sideways next to Rafa as the women continued on with their terms. Still hovering over the monitor was the holographic display of the new Emperor Palpatine in his burgundy and red robes, hood over his new scarred and deformed visage as he stood paused in his address to the Senate from weeks ago. And in the place of small optimism, Ahsoka once again felt danger and wholesale agony. She was about to step into darkness again, and both sisters were ready to trudge in with her this time. Guilt was the least of her worries in this matter.

Going to a planet where she knew Clones to be, Ahsoka felt naked without the feeling of lightsabers at her belt. She foresaw in her mind’s eye that she would need them. 


	2. Rafa

Commlinks, enough for the three of them as they split off from the tethered and docked _Silver Angel_ ; Rafa took point with Ahsoka, both of them heading towards the cantina as the spaceport overflowed with foot traffic. Traders mostly, with a bigger than usual influx of refugees from all over the Outer Rim swarmed all around them as they tried their best to blend in. For both the Martez sisters that was easier than for their companion – even away from the Core Worlds and deep within the Outer Rim there were far more Humans than aliens. A Togruta was even a scarce sight, let along Ahsoka in particular.

The three of them parted as Ahsoka pulled over the hood of the shawl she’d hastily stolen from the top of some cargo laying out in the hangar bays. She realised rather quickly that she was growing too dependent on random cuts of cloth to cover her visage. Letting go of Trace’s hand from her own proved to be more than a little difficult, and watching her disappear into the crowd was even more so.

“Try not to take too long,” Trace told them both over the commlink.

Her voice still in Ahsoka’s ear already made the Togruta feel better about being alone with Rafa in a city about to become besieged. Two Alpha-3 _Nimbus_ -class V-Wing Interceptors extremely quickly zoomed overhead in a two-step wingman formation. The rest of the air traffic around Kijimi City looked normal, if a little congested, which seemed to be mirrored in the foot traffic also as Rafa and Ahsoka headed into the centre of the bazaar and trade district. The Togruta seemed to remember her steps fairly well from the last time she had been here with Anakin and Obi-Wan. The cantina would be near the central intersection of all the footpaths – a circular dome-like tavern with a fairly foul smell coming from within. In other words, exposed. Ahsoka held her breath in steady bursts, reaching out with the Force. She wore herself a little thin with it, trying to keep a mystic hand on Trace as she got further and further away from she and Rafa, while also trying to keep an open ear to the ground for any sense of danger. She could already feel the Acclamator more than close enough for her liking, which meant the Clones, would be even more so.

Ahsoka seriously wished she had her old lightsabers at her belt, feeling more exposed than ever without them.

“You don’t look good,” Rafa spoke next to her, keeping close so they couldn’t be separated. She wasn’t hardy as she used to be, and within her voice Ahsoka could detect genuine concern. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Ahsoka tried to say confidently. “I can’t help but feel a little on edge in a place like this now – it’s not like before. I feel almost naked without my lightsabers; if the Clones figure out who I am, if they’re in that frenzy still... I can’t protect us.”

Rafa’s hand gingerly but firmly clasped her own in a platonic display of confidence. She was showing that even if the Togruta didn’t have faith her own ability sans her weapons, then at least one Martez certainly did enough to show it. Through the ripples of the Force, Ahsoka found Rafa next to her, her life force and energy beautifully glowing in the former-Jedi receptive third eye. They simply had to walk to the cantina, make contact with the Mandalorians in Fulcrum, and leave – Ahsoka still could not shake the feeling of total dread from her shoulders, obscuring as much of her face with the hood of her shawl as she could.

“Try to relax,” Rafa reminded her, still finding herself holding the former-Jedi’s hand and oddly enough not wanting to let go either. “There won’t be any trouble and if there is... _I’ll_ get us out of it if I have to,” the smooth-talking Martez almost boasted with the crook of a faint flashy smile. She didn’t have her fur coat with the obnoxious collar around her neck anymore, but Rafa still carried herself as if she was soon to be the administrator of a tibanna gas mining operation.

“Yeah, no offense, Rafa... But I’d rather put my credits on Ahsoka bailing us outta trouble than your slick dealing again,” Trace rebuked over the commlink, making her lover even smile a little.

“Hey, remember when I saved your neck from having to sell the ship to Thex before we left Coruscant?”

“I wouldn’t really call it ‘saved’ when _you_ were the one who wanted to dump the _Silver Angel_ on to Thex for a shot a slick swoop racer to win the Thirteen Cup... You can’t even ride a swoop bike, Rafa!” The younger Martez continued to drag her sister. Ahsoka let out a little chuckle upon hearing of the pair’s misadventures before she had returned to their lives. The cadence of Trace’s combative voice made her walls lower a little against her inner intuition.

“Look, Trace... If my talking can get us outta trouble in the Core, then the Outer Rim is hardly gonna be a problem...”

Ahsoka could feel the frustration in her partner from wherever she had already ended up away from them. “I got a bad feeling about this,” she heard Trace finalise in her ears before the dome-like building of the cantina finally came into view. So far they were operating fairly well, but the Togruta still couldn’t shake the apprehension in her bones – it felt just the like dread she used to feel with her master right before the conventional strategy fell apart and his less than orthodox plans kicked into motion. She had forgotten how he had made her feel uncomfortable at times when engaging in his ‘Skywalker’ style of tactics. Yet nowadays, Ahsoka missed them as much as she missed her old master. If anyone could still be out there, it would be General Anakin Skywalker, regardless of the lies Maul had fed her when they were on Mandalore. But Ahsoka couldn’t and wouldn’t dare think about all that now. There were more pressing matters and problems of old hardly mattered at all anymore. Sidious had seen to that.

“Trace, we’re walking into the cantina now,” Rafa reported to her sister as they crossed inside of the threshold and took in the extremely seedy atmosphere. There were no Clones in sight, only a menagerie of aliens among human company and a haphazard array of droids and other robotic folk. One of the astromechs (an R4 series with a more cylindrical head instead of a dome and the wrong cadence or pitch of beeps) reminded Ahsoka immediately of Artoo from the silver hue of its similar paintjob and accents of blue. “What’d’ya want to drink? I have enough credits to spare, and we don’t really wanna attract unwanted attention here do we?”

“No, you’re right...”

Ahsoka instantly began to fully scan the bar from top to bottom with the Force aiding her observations and aloof semi-second identification. She started from the bar itself, noting the Human and Ugnaught bartending duo who sluggishly continued serving the retinue of customers. Among those leaning with drinks in their hands or at their places were Bith, more Humans, an Ithorian, Sullustian, Aqualish, and even a twin pair of Theelins judging by how identical they appeared to look. One of them had a blade-scaled scarf wrapped around her thin neck and almost malnourished-looking collarbone draped in a yellow robe to clash with her magenta-purple scaled flesh. Ahsoka had seen one of their kind before, a bounty hunter what felt like a lifetime ago. Looking further out from the bar she could discern a small ambiance band of four or five Bith players with one Trandoshan of all people singing, or rather lulling lyrics in Huttese under his snarling breath. Around the booths were various parties of another couple handfuls of species – Ahsoka saw cyborgs of all different kinds, a hunting party of Trandoshan lizards than made her stomach crawl and her anger seethe just a little from experience. Also there were a chattering of insect-like bipedals that appeared similar to Killiks from what she believed, but certainly not the genuinely species. More parties of humans mixed in with one or two more different species were talking over drinks; one could even see a Rattataki trying to abscond into the shadows. The Togruta could tell she was of Rattatak and not simply a Dathomirian Zabrak from the facial tattoos of a charcoal black blended into her ghostly white skin. Twi’lek and more Theelin servers roamed around the main bar, looking for empty glasses or waiting customers. Looking up, the denizens of the upper level were mostly much of the same as well as a gathering of Rhodians and some of the Hutt slave species such as Nikto and Weequay. Ahsoka found herself fortunate they were not among those of Honda Onaka’s outfit.

“I’ll take a Juma Juice, and I’ll find us a seat by the communicator while you’re gone,” she differed to Rafa, watching the young woman smile a little as she disappeared in the direction of the bar.

Sinking into one of the harder, cheaper seats, Ahsoka found herself dwelling again on her apparent nakedness – looking to the Trandoshans and seeing their arsenal wrapped around their varying space jumpsuits made her feel inferior. She could probably take them all on by herself, maybe even defeat them despite the rusting of her skills in the past two weeks of wallowing sadness with Trace at her side, but she didn’t feel confident in her abilities at present. Anakin had once always said to her that her lightsaber was like her life, and she did feel like some part of her true self was missing without them. She even thought of Master Tera Sinube, an old friend from the Temple near the start of the war – his lightsaber had been white, a concealed version of the Jedi signature weapon crafted into his walking stick to throw off his enemies. He had taught her patience and deceptiveness during their adventure together. Ahsoka wished she had the luxury of relying on the advice and teachings of wizened masters like Sinube now more than ever. But those days were dead now.

More thoughts of weapons wormed their way into her mind; Ahsoka began thinking about all the different variations of the lightsaber she had seen. She fought with two blades, including one smaller one like Master Yoda did, a Shoto. Most other Jedi had fought with just the one; Maul and the Temple Guards used a doublesaber, the latter having theirs folded to be able to be used as a single sword. Dooku himself had used a curved hilt, as well as Ventress. General Grievous had used up to four lightsabers stolen from the bodies of dead Jedi he had killed in battle, using their weapons as trophies of his kills. Sinube had concealed his sabre, and other Jedi even had lightsabers worked into the bodies of pole weapons called sabrestaffs.

The Mandalorians often used weapons inspired by or to combat the lightsaber, Ahsoka remembered, except one. Tarre Vizsla had created the Darksaber millennia ago.

“Going anywhere special?” Rafa’s voice called out to her, pulling her back from her old Jedi teachings on weaponry and bringing her back to the seedy cantina on Kijimi with the menagerie of different aliens all around them.

“What?” She almost laughed taking the drink and savouring its taste. Juma Juice was the go to drink of any Jedi, a personal favourite of Obi-Wan’s that he had instilled in both his student, and his student’s apprentice.

“You looked like you were just about ready to jump to Hyperspace inside your own head right there, Ahsoka. Are you okay?” The older Martez asked with genuine concern again. Her fingers were sliding across the table and gripping Ahsoka’s grasp around her glass.

“I’m fine, Rafa. Sorry... I guess I’m drifting.”

“The console’s free – make the connection; I’ll keep my eyes open,” she told the former-Jedi, the warmth of her brown-skinned hand against the Togruta’s orange fingers filling Ahsoka with companionship and faith. Ahsoka took one last scan around the cantina and made a note of where the majority of the denizens were sitting or standing before taking another ship. An Ithorian walked out from behind the curtain of the private terminal and Ahsoka got up to step inside.

She drew the tattered curtain for privacy and let herself breath in the solitude of even this small a room. The communications suite wasn’t anything special, simply a single terminal for making the connection and then a pad to render the hologram display of whoever was being contacted. Ahsoka plugged into the terminal, finding the Fulcrum wavelength and seeing it was active. If it was being tapped by the Clones or anyone else that wasn’t Bo-Katan right now, this whole thing was compromised and Ahsoka knew she would be engaging with a trap. She tried to breathe again before entering in her access codes – they still worked, and she was in, gaining access to the whole wavelength.

“This is Snips, is anyone there?” Ahsoka spoke into the small microphone, hoping she wasn’t about to be hounded by Clones and murdered along with her entourage. “Bo?” She asked again. “Anakin?” She hoped rather too audibly.

A hologram of a Mandalorian woman in beskar and with a small bundle of black-grey hair appeared, a stern and hardly look of close protective mistrust on her face and her helmet in the clutch of her arm. “Ahsoka Tano, it is good to see you still live.”

“Ursa Wren... where’s Bo-Katan?”

“Not yet, Ahsoka – Challenge: Fives,” Ursa shot rather coldly, the icy precision of her uncompromising demeanour cutting through Ahsoka in a tactile way she was suddenly unused to. Wren was very much like this, as Bo-Katan’s top lieutenant she was needed to maintain the swift and cutthroat mind she possessed. Both loyal and useful, Ursa was a capable warrior and effective executive officer among Bo’s forces, but Ahsoka had always thought she lacked empathy and other qualities that fully made a good leader. Yet, it was good to see a familiar face.

“Response: Echo,” Ahsoka countered. If Ursa knew all of the codes and challenges, and was here instead of Bo-Katan herself, Ahsoka feared the worst. “What’s going on, Ursa?”

Wren’s stiff professionalism relented a little at the answer to her challenge; it was used to ensure that whoever was on the other end of the communications was not yet compromised. “Bo-Katan has been arrested by the Clones. After the Chancellor’s address to the Senate and the reformation he heralded, he sent three cruisers to Mandalore to secure the system...”

“That’s a declaration of war...” Ahsoka mused.

“Indeed,” Ursa coldly agreed. “Bo-Katan was furious, but the Chancellor would not parlay with her, neither the commander of the task force he sent. They stormed the capital on the first day and launched a full scale bombardment on the central palace – we were still recovering from the siege against Maul and didn’t have enough troops when the Clones breached the outer defences and stormed the city... They apprehended Bo-Katan and took her into custody when she refused to surrender Mandalore to the Republic.”

Ahsoka bit her tongue, almost drawing blood from the fury sparked within her bones, her fists clenched also and she could almost breathe fire from the anger. “It’s not the Republic anymore,” she corrected Ursa with fire in her belly. “The Chancellor was Darth Sidious all along, playing both sides against each other – Maul was telling some of the truth. The Republic has now become the Galactic Empire.”

“So it would seem,” Ursa concurred. “Ahsoka... Bo-Katan sent me away with the rest of her honour guard, but I must ask for your help if are to rescue her.” Ahsoka almost visibly grimaced at the mention of help. How could she? It was irrational to have even followed through with the data packet and engage in communications, but donating her help to the Mandalorian again was foolhardy and downright suicidal when she felt responsible for both Rafa and her new love. There was no way she could rightly endanger the Martez sisters or even ask for their help with this.

But this was Bo-Katan Kryze.

“Do you know where she’s being held?” Ahsoka had to ask or risk losing herself should she refuse to hear any more. She felt a pained swell in her heart knowing that her friend and former mentor was in danger, especially in the hands of this new Empire.

“Admiral Yularen has parked his Venator at the docks of the city to maintain a military presence close by while the occupation continues. We have reason to believe he still has Bo-Katan in the detention block of his cruiser, under heavy guard of the Clones.”

Yularen was the commander of the siege? Ahsoka’s heart sank tremendously at the thought of him engaging in such unjust violence and dishonour. But she could believe it now, given what she had seen from the Clones in their frenzy over Order 66. The fair Admiral had always been a man of the Republic and for it, whatever form it chose to take around him. Engaging in the Empire like this meant personal honour for him, and Ahsoka was undoubted that the Chancellor now Emperor had bestowed significant glory on him and more officers like him for the role they played in the larger campaigns of the Clone Wars. She couldn’t dare think about what he must have given to Admiral Tarkin. Still, if Yularen was on Mandalore, this became all the more personal – and suddenly there was a link to Anakin now.

“What about the other two cruiser?” Ahsoka had to ask.

“Yularen sent one to subdue the remaining Death Watch pockets on the moon of Concordia,” Ursa reported. “Even without the presence of Pre Viszla in the organisation, there is still widespread insurrection against foreign rulers of Mandalore. Bo-Katan was beginning to bring the clans together again...”

“Do you even know if she’s still alive?”

“You of all people should know her better than that, Ahsoka...” Wren coldly scolded her.

The decision weighed over the Togruta like an omen of death suddenly – Ursa was completely right in judging her for trying to worm out of it with her conscience unscathed. Bo would be alive, too stubborn to die to Clones or even in a cell, and she would be holding out hope that her Mandalorians could find Ahsoka to help with her rescue. But Ahsoka could not endanger her companions, simply no. She knew Ursa could see it in her face, even through the hologram.

“We need you, Ahsoka... Bo-Katan needs you...” Wren pried when there came no immediate follow through. Two weeks ago, Ahsoka would have leaped to Concord Dawn in a heartbeat, but now there was Trace and Rafa relying on her for support and protection, and she relied on them for much the same.

She did not know what she could or would do about this, except Ahsoka knew she must meet with the Mandalorians if anything, and decide from there. There was no way she could ask Trace or Rafa to help her though, not ever. “Send me your coordinates, I will do what I can to help you rescue Bo-Katan, Ursa, but I must not endanger my current mandate,” she spoke honestly and from the heart.

“Mandate?” Wren echoed icy cold.

“I’m in hiding with two friends from Coruscant, and I cannot endanger their security, Ursa, not for anything – even Bo-Katan.”

Ursa looked as if she was about to rip through Ahsoka’s defence and strike her in her military honour, but then almost refrained at the last moment with a scornful frown taking up residence across her face. She took her helmet from under her arm and covered her visage in under the beskar, reached to her panel out of the hologram and uploading the data. Ahsoka received it and tucked the data stick under one of the flaps of her belt, feeling supremely guilty as she looked at feline-like plate of Wren’s helmet.

“This is the way...” She said plainly and almost without emotion.

Ahsoka felt it as a stab to the heart, impugning her honour, staining her record, but misunderstanding her intentions. “This is the way,” she replied and the communications ceased.

Rafa was waiting patiently for her beyond the threshold of the curtain, and didn’t look as if she had overheard anything. If she had done, she was good at keeping the stolen knowledge close to her chest and didn’t reveal that she knew anything at all. The frilly flow of her fashionable hair was a welcome sight to Ahsoka after the plunge into the old world with Ursa Wren. The older Martez even flashed her a welcome smile, trying to reinforce that everything was mostly alright at present. “How’d it go?” She asked, seeing the less than impressed look on the Togruta.

“I hate to ask this, but I need to take a detour to Concord Dawn... I have to meet with them, to explain some things,” she expressed, surprised by how understanding Rafa of all people looked as she nodded. Trace would even less difficult to persuade, even as pilot of the _Silver Angel_.

“Trace, we’re through with our mission, we’ll meet you back at the ship,” Rafa radioed in via the commlink as she finished the last dregs of her drink. Ahsoka absent-mindedly did the same, not seeing a major shift in the patterns of the patrons of the cantina to what she had observed before accessing the terminal.

“I’m finished here too, walking by your position now – oh crap!”

“What’s wrong? Trace, talk to me...” Ahsoka panicked instinctively.

“You’ve got a team of Clones walking up to the cantina door now, the main entrance,” the mechanic and pilot alerted them. Ahsoka could sense it through the Force – four of them, including their squad leader, with weapons primed and on a standard patrol but still observant.

“What colour is their armour?” She asked hurriedly.

“What?”

“Their armour, Trace! The colour!” Rafa barked in retort.

“Yellow, I think. I see yellow around their shoulders and helmets.” Ahsoka’s heart seized up and her blood boiled, her legs and arms growing numb in total panic. Yellow meant the 7th Sky Corps, Obi-Wan’s unit; they almost all knew who she was just by looking at the white tattoos on her orange face. Ahsoka Tano had eaten, slept, fought and died with these brothers for over three years since she’d arrived on Christophsis all that time ago. The 7th Sky Corps and the 501st Legion were one and the same, the same army with Anakin, Obi-Wan, herself, Rex, Cody and Admiral Yularen as their commanders. She was so engrained into its history and its command structure that it would almost impossible to miss her if any of the troopers were among the names she knew. She thought of Waxer and Boyle as two to name.

“Side exit, we’re going through the side exit, Trace,” Rafa planned, grabbing onto Ahsoka’s wrist when she saw the that former-Jedi had completely failed to function and was starting to freeze under the panic.

“No, no you’re not – another squad of Clones are going through there as well from the south...”

More panic rifled through Ahsoka’s body; her chest convulsed, her heart pounding in her chest as the fear and duress completely took her over in the dark of the cantina. They were coming, and they were going to make her even if she covered her face under the ineffective hood of her taken shawl. The sudden thought of the entrance of the squad of troopers, of which one inspired joy and camaraderie now instilled a deep sense of total helplessness within the young Togruta. They would enter, scan the room in a strict doctrine of which they had been born and bred knowing (she knew it too from years serving with them as friends), and they would realise it was her once they noted the length of her montrals and lekku, and then inquiring about her facial tattoos. To the specific Clones she knew, her facial features were to be a dead giveaway. Ahsoka became horrendously and methodically conscious about how she looked – the lines of white all over her face that Trace had doted on when she could see them in private, the bold plumpness of her alien lips and the deep and serene blueness of her wide doe-like eyes. All of them compromised her, made her noticeable. It all snowballed along with everything else.

Soon, she was scared of the thought of being scared. She was once a Jedi, a keeper of the peace, a student of the Jedi Temple and a warrior of exceptional skill and prowess under the most gifted Jedi she had ever known. And now she felt like a cowering girl years her junior, fearful of merely being in a state like this, frozen and unsure of what to do at the thought of Clones. They forced upon her the reality of terror – that it was terrifying to feel fearful of them.

There felt like no escape this time.

“Ahsoka, talk to me!” Trace was still bellowing over the commlink on her wrist but she was so stunned and petrified that she could hardly hear her lover.

“Trace, get to the ship, _I’ll_ protect Ahsoka,” Rafa harshly commanded her sister, gripping the Togruta’s wrist and pulling her around the corner of the wall and into a small alcove shrouded in black. “Keep your eyes on me right now, got me?” She asked the former-Jedi. It broke the spell of delusion enough for Ahsoka to nod and regain a sense of what was happening to her. There still seemed no way out of this, pinched between two squads of Clone Troopers heading towards their location. It would be seconds. They were coming through the door.

“Rafa... Stay behind me...”

“Shut up and kiss me, Ahsoka,” Rafa countered instantly, her hands on the Togruta’s shoulders and pinning her to the wall practically with determined and fiery eyes. The brown of her irises had transformed into almost sunburnt orange blazing like the fire of a crashing star cruiser.

“What?” Ahsoka gawped.

Rafa poked her head out around the corner, quickly checking and seeing the Clones enter the cantina different to how Ahsoka used to talk about them – they walked, moved, and looked just like droids covered in plasteel battle armour and with longer blaster rifles. The alien pulled her back from attracting attention looking this suspicious, the panic in Ahsoka’s eyes totally subdued and kicked out, she looked back to normal as fast as the terror had come over her. What Rafa had suggested, as insulting as it was, must have kicked her into her old military mindset.

“Had me worried there,” the older Martez seemed to flirt. “Come on!”

“Not a chance, this is ridiculous; I can rush them and cause a distraction to get us out of here if I’m fast enough...” They were moving through the front and side entrances as she spoke, already moving through the crowds and looking directly at the less confident members of the cantina.

“There’s too many of them, are you crazy?”

“It’s a better idea.”

“Like hell,” Rafa continued to counter, pulling Ahsoka back and keeping her close to herself and the wall every time she tried to move. They were almost dancing with begrudging looks as the Clones got closer moving through the patrons, a few more moments and there would truly be no escape for Ahsoka or for Rafa. The older sister brushed her fringe back and almost snarled. “People, troopers included, are less likely to creep on a couple making out in the corner, trust me!” She bit.

“You speak from experience, right? Forget about it!”

“You grow up in the lower levels of Coruscant and you pick up how to survive when the military shows up. For once do as I say... Here they come!”

Ahsoka gripped Rafa’s collar, pulling her in close and claiming her lips with fiery passion purely of the accidental kind, her rage flaring more than just a little as she kissed her. The smooth-talker melted into the alien’s lips, wrapping her arms around Ahsoka and kissing her back, the slit of her eye open as the Clones made their pass, all looking around. It was working just like Rafa knew it would, and she found herself keeping her body around Ahsoka’s, just in case – she reached for her companion’s hood, pulling it over the montrals poking up and obscuring them both all the more. Two and then three of the first squad all looked at them kissing, solid couples of seconds spent determining if they should interrupt or not. And to Rafa’s relief, the Clones proved to be as awkward or as dumb as the rest of all men she had ever met on Coruscant. There was no difference in them across the galaxy it seemed. But Rafa couldn’t take the chance – when Ahsoka broke off, the beginnings of an explosive and scornful frown on her face, Rafa bit back once again.

“Not yet...” She breathed, putting her hands back onto the former-Jedi and pulling her back in as she spotted the Clones exchanging entrances.

“Rafa..!” Ahsoka gasped and yelped as she kissed the Martez again, following the ploy as much as she didn’t like it. It proved to be working, Rafa’s orange-brown eye directing Ahsoka’s vision to the directions of the Clones’ movements around the cantina.

The pair tumbled, spinning and hitting the next wall before they were done, Rafa kept her companion together, herself enjoying the light taste and dregs of Juma on Ahsoka’s lips. The mild resistance to her encroaching lips made it spicy, a little crude, but all the more enjoyable for the older Martez. It was clear from how Ahsoka kissed back, taking brown lips between her teeth that couldn’t possibly be purely performative either. Like a slow tug of a lazy river, the yellow-accented Clones disappeared out of both entrances and Ahsoka was free from Rafa’s kiss, turning sour immediately. She pushed the older woman away from her and kicked the wall against her back, hating herself a moment. The Togruta hated how she had liked it, however small that like was. She had still felt it, as she could certainly read that Rafa had just by the look of her face as she fingered her lips, as if savouring the taste.

“I’m sorry...” Rafa had the decency to whisper once they were done and Ahsoka continued to glare at her.

“Don’t ever make me do that again. Clear?”

“I only did it to protect you, to protect us both, and Trace as well. Happy?” Rafa fought, but knew that they both could tell she was lying to herself. She had done it because she wanted to, because it was convenient to her and because it proved to work, to prove herself right over Ahsoka. The fact that it was more effective than the weaponless former-Jedi risking her life was purely secondary.

“Don’t make a habit out of it,” Ahsoka warned her, her voice cold and like durasteel for the first time in what felt like a long time. “Come on, we need to get back to Trace...”


	3. Mandalorians

Hyperspace dragged back into starlines once again and then the icy dregs of the asteroid field came into view before them in the cockpit. “Concord Dawn, once a prison complex, I think...” Ahsoka mused as she saw the remnants of the old moon sprawled out in over a million differently sized pieces across the sector of eerie space.

“Keep her steady Trace; Rafa let me into the co-pilot’s chair so I can bring us into the complex,” she added, slowly exchanging seats with the older Martez as both she and Trace gawped at the sight of the system. It looked like the graveyard of a former Mandalorian planet stretched out by conflict and gravity. Rafa moved aft slowly, still looking as her sister steered the freighter the slowest she had since the ship had been fixed up fully. “Give me thrust control, Trace, and keep the lateral axis tight; easy, love...”

The younger sister looked almost scared to take the _Silver Angel_ into the small mess of icy shards and miscellaneous asteroids, but Ahsoka reached over the parting shunt of the dashboard and held her lover’s forearm and then wrist consolingly. The grace of her orange fingers made Trace feel emboldened again, having her lover close by, in the co-pilot’s chair at last. She held her ship steady and kept the lateral movements nimble. Ahsoka had thrust control but the majority of the freighter’s movements were still in Trace’s power, she had authority over her ship even now as she flew it into a precarious position.

Ahsoka had turned to the communications panel, tapping into the Fulcrum wavelength and making contact with the small outpost hidden among the asteroids and sharp plains of ice. Sheets of blue-white reflected and refracted in the rays of the distant sun as it surpassed the profile of the closer moon. Rafa was on the edge of her seat still taking it all in as the contact reconnected into Fulcrum along with Ahsoka. She reached back and braced Trace with her loving embrace again, even getting up from her seat to reach over and plant a loving kiss on the side of her lover’s smooth and faint brown skin. Trace smiled like a pleased child at the show of affection, her walls lowering a little and her confidence growing as she moved them further into the small security field of natural formations and along to the man-made structures built into the colossal ice sheet. It was a floating suspended glacier made entirely of frozen moon and other materiel from whatever had happened here. When Trace looked to ask Ahsoka exactly that, the Togruta was already back in position and staring out of the cockpit window again, once more in control of the thrust and keeping it to a cool low quarter.

“Concord Dawn used to be an important system in Mandalorian Space. Thousands of years ago it got caught up in the last Great Hyperspace War,” she explained, thinking back to her early teachings on the conflict from the Temple records, and then again to the tale Bo-Katan had told about the ancient Mandalorians. “The old Sith Empire glassed the system with the force of over a hundred old Star Destroyers and didn’t stop until the moons were in half. This is all that’s left.”

“Tell ‘em not to roll out the welcoming party all at once,” Rafa joked from the aft of the cockpit.

“I’ve never heard of a Hyperspace War, or a Sith Empire... How long ago was it?” Trace asked, more enamoured with the story than her sister was.

“About three thousand years ago, before the rise and fall of Darth Bane... In the time of the last Sith Emperor and Jedi Grandmaster Satele Shan and Master Gnost-Dural, the Chronicler,” Ahsoka continued to riddle off as if she read it directly from one of the chronicle screens in the old Temple Archives. She had always hated the times that Anakin had directed her to study but it had always been an essential part of any Jedi’s life.

The communications panel beeped and sprang with life as the hulk of the freighter passed inside of an opening in the ice shelf, passing into a vast and opened hanger bay that looked built more for Star Destroyers than small freighters like theirs. Ahsoka left Trace again and patched herself into Fulcrum with eager enthusiasm while her two companions continued to stare around the locale in mild disbelief it even existed. “Mandalorians this is the _Silver Angel_ , requesting permission to land. Challenge: Hevy.”

“We see you _Silver Angel_. Response is Cutup. This is the way.”

“This is the way, well met Mandalorians. I immediately request audience with Ursa Wren, House Vizsla,” Ahsoka continued, keeping with the Mandalorian traditions for newcomers to a safe haven of the clans. She made sure her tone was respectful and of a warrior, despite her wishes to refrain from becoming one once again.

“Mistress Wren is already awaiting you in the hangar bay, Lady Tano.”

“Thank you,” she ended, silencing the call and turning back to her partner in the pilot’s chair with her hands still firmly wrapped around the flight controls. “Put her down here, Trace. They’ll a landing party waiting for us. Rafa, leave your blaster, okay?”

Rafa’s look was more than obedient. “You don’t gotta tell me twice, I don’t wanna tangle with Mandalorians today.”

“Are we safe?” Trace asked, Ahsoka was surprised she hadn’t asked something along the same lines earlier, such as when imputing the course to Concord Dawn or exiting Hyperspace in view of the vast array of ice and chunks of moon. Now she seemed riddled with cool apprehension but still reached forward to entangle her fingers among the Togruta’s.

Ahsoka reached out with the Force to try and soothe her lover mentally and emotionally from where they stood. She shuffled in her stance and embraced Trace warmly, guilty for bringing her and Rafa both into this and still more than a little embarrassed about what had transpired with the older sister in the cantina back on Kijimi. Trace felt colder than before, space seeping into her bones and making her feel a little frigid. Her light dose of apprehensive caution made it all worse. Her fingers felt like stalagmites of dry ice against Ahsoka’s lips palm, in desperate need of warming up with intimate loving. She kissed the human mechanic zealously with bold initiative on the lips, cupping her cheek and reminding her that she was there, that she loved her.

“We’re safer here than we were on Kijimi. But let me do the talking, alright, Rafa?” The former-Jedi directed to the loose lipped and silver-tongued vagabond in the third cockpit chair.

Rafa got to her feet and feigned a semi-mocking salute to the former-commander. “Aye, aye, ‘Lady Tano’.”

Trace released the latch of the wide and large landing ramp at the portside section of the freighter, releasing the three of them into the massive starship hangar bay and where Ahsoka could see Ursa Wren had her bannermen standing either side of her. Already she could tell they looked no different to how she had left them all with Bo-Katan on Mandalore right after the culmination of the siege. Ursa had bags under her eyes, that was the only difference, and perhaps her lips were a tad thinner, pursed together as she spied Trace and Rafa and instantly understood Ahsoka’s hesitation about her devotion. They locked eyes as the three young woman descended from the berth of the _Silver Angel_. Ursa signalled her men to stow their weapons, both of them relaxing at her hand signals. Ahsoka could hardly blame her caution – these were extremely terrifying and unprecedented times of instability. The challenges obviously weren’t entirely enough to Ursa to prove Ahsoka was still uncompromised.

“Ahsoka Tano,” Ursa greeted her, offering her hand in welcome. The women clasped arms, gripping each other by the forearms close to the elbow; she certainly looked both relieved and happy to see the former-Jedi.

“It’s good to see you too, Ursa,” the Togruta smiled, taking back her arm. “Trace, Rafa, this is Ursa Wren, head of Clan Wren, part of House Vizsla and lieutenant to Bo-Katan, a friend,” she introduced, gesturing Trace and Rafa both to make their own introductions. Rafa was almost about to bow before Ursa, earning a sheepish smile from the stern woman as the eldest sister refrained and simply took her arm like Ahsoka had done.

“Friends of Ahsoka Tano will find shared friends among the remnants of my House,” Ursa declared in a very old-fashioned manner of speak and an iron-clad tone as if delivering it to the rest of her soldiers. “Welcome to Concord Dawn, what little we have,” she added, before immediately turning back to Ahsoka as if the Martez sisters were not there at all. “I appreciate you coming here to meet with me, Ahsoka, but unless I can count on your support to free Lady Bo-Katan on Mandalore, I must ask you to take your leave...”

“Ursa...”

Trace gripped her lover’s arm, already breaking protocol in the conversation between the warfighters. “Your friend is in trouble, why didn’t you tell us? Ahsoka, she needs you!” The mechanic was already fighting the sides, her grip on her lover’s arm tight and equally as passionate as the fire in her voice. Rafa was reaching forward, trying to calm her sister down and gently calling her name. The older Martez already understood what was going on to the letter while Trace was letting her love for Ahsoka and her well-natured heart rush in and fail to fully get what her partner was doing, or rather not doing and for what reasons. “You have to help them!”

Rafa pulled her sister back, Ursa watching it all transpire with what felt like judgmental eyes as she observed Trace closely. “It’s not as easy as that, Trace...”

“And why not?” She put to Rafa rather flippantly. Ahsoka couldn’t interrupt, even with her hand coming over her lover’s shoulder – Trace reached for her fingers instinctively as if she was hurt or had been traumatised in some way. “We have the _Silver Angel_ ; we can help!” Trace continued, pointing to the large profile of the _Nebula-_ class freighter stood on her landing gear with large ramp extended outward. Ursa Wren seemed to admire the craft as well, as a civilian vessel.

“I understand that Ahsoka does not wish to risk either of your lives or your vessel in leaving to help us, Trace Martez,” the older Mandalorian expressed, looking to Ahsoka and seeing the weight in her beautiful blue eyes.

The alien scooted even closer to her lover, flanking Trace and covering her with the sides and profile of her own luscious body. Trace silently yearned for her touch, her own fingers clasping tightly around her love’s and savouring how close Ahsoka was to her. More guilt rifled through the Togruta, for both feeling like she was letting Trace down in not helping, and for refusing to give her aid to the Mandalorians who had helped her in the past, and who deserved it again from her now. She could not leave Bo-Katan in the clutches of the new Empire, but she would not bring herself to risk the life of her partner, nor Rafa either. Leaving them to help Ursa, or worse, enabling Trace’s wishes and devoting the three of them would do that, and Ahsoka could not bring herself to ask either woman for their permission. Rafa eyed Ahsoka, sharing a silent moment, possibly even saying sorry with her glare for earlier and stealing that rogue kiss where she shouldn’t.

“Perhaps we could speak aboard the ship?” Ahsoka asked Ursa suddenly.

“Certainly, I concur it seems like the best idea at present,” the older Mandalorian agreed with a slightly stern marker in her matter-of-fact voice.

* * *

Ursa levelled her finger around the underside of the hologram of the _Endurance II_ , pointing at the several entry points both small and large from stern to underbelly. Ahsoka had relented enough to hearing the specifics of the Mandalorians’ strategy; thus far she had seen more than a few miscalculations and holes in the plan that would easily lead to failure. Gaining ingress into the Venator would be truly where they would sink or swim with or without her. Gathered in the small sitting area of the _Silver Angel,_ the Togruta couldn’t sit still if she tried – Ahsoka had the chair around her front, with one leg under her body and Trace flanking her in warm and tactile embrace with warm and strong arms cuddling around her bony shoulders. She leaned against her alien lover, faintly nuzzling through the mock briefing as Ahsoka watched and listened closely with her keen interest and military mannered mind.

In the back of her mind she imagined Anakin’s voice going over it to her and a squad full of Clone Troopers in blue-accented 501st plasteel. Rex would be where Rafa was, parallel to where Ahsoka sat and on her feet, actually and actively taking in all Ursa was going through. The former-Jedi couldn’t tell if the older Martez could understand all of the pitch, but she certainly looked as if her keen and sharp mind was absorbing and quickly learning enough to keep up. This was good; Ahsoka could sense her companion’s mind ticking over, with Rafa’s rum-brown eyes flashing occasionally to observe the Togruta herself, the human keeping her mind closed and her intensions secret. She looked to Ahsoka with fond and far-off eyes, as if looking to a ship breaking the atmosphere from a planet’s surface.

“There exists a small waste disposal port underneath the aft sensor cluster. We can approach on jetpacks and fire off a quick and personalised disruption burst to give their sensors a quick blinding, and then make our ingress via the port,” Ursa explained, a red overlay identifying the entry point on the hologram as it zoomed into the aft under section of the cruiser.

“You’ll only have a few seconds from equipment that small, not enough for your entire team to make the infiltration. And that bulkhead isn’t exactly easy to pry open without loader droids...” Ahsoka had to rebuke, her knowledge of the Venator’s inner workings coming to her like breathing.

“Breaching from the bow puts us too far away from the detention block and too many Clones in our path,” the Mandalorian woman quickly countered.

“If sneaking in from the aft is your main objective, the laundry isn’t far from the detention block and can be accessed through the ventilation suite,” Ahsoka explained, gaining control of the hologram display and moving the blueprints further back. “There’s a large vent system around the largest of the main thrusters and surveillance is at a lower priority. You could blow the whole thing open with thermal detonators and mask in time with plasma venting...”

Ursa furrowed her brows, stroking her chin and overlooking the blueprints. “Those plasma vents won’t be operational if the ship isn’t above condition two. Despite the best efforts of the city’s resistance we have been unable to bring the cruiser to a combat footing,” she countered again, turning to her flanking bannermen and then back to Ahsoka. Ursa changed the hologram, bringing up her legion’s fighter compliment.

“Commander Rau commands only a squadron of Fang Fighters and we have only a single Gauntlet Bomber to transport our infiltration unit...”

“Is the bomber equipped with a stealth device?”

“It is,” Ursa concurred, her lips curling into a devious smile as she suddenly imagined what the former-Jedi was implying. “You’re suggesting we make an attack against the Venator before infiltrating?” She added.

“Provided they haven’t made any changes to their sensors, I can give you the tools you need to swoop in under their long-range detection and hit them before they can spot the Gauntlet through the stealth device,” Ahsoka explained. “Hitting the ship will bring the bridge to a combat footing but it’ll take the main batteries a while to come online, if they even decide to break off from the docks.”

“You’re familiar with the docks?” One of the background Mandalorians spoke from under his helmet.

“Yes. The former Duchess and I inspected them thoroughly with internal affairs following the first arrest of Prime Minister Almec. Uncoupling from the docks’ systems will take even more time,” she continued, moving the hologram once more. “My bet is Yularen won’t even try it when he can just deploy Domino Squadron from the starboard and portside auxiliary hangars. Lure them around to one of the canyons and engage with Fenn Rau’s Protectorate Starfighters...”

“And Yularen still won’t engage?” Ursa asked, cooling her other two bannermen, ultimate intrigued and a little impressed at how tactfully inspired Ahsoka was as well as her strategies even from her position in the chair. Trace kissed her cheek, enamoured with her large brain and combat wits.

“He will, but at that point Bo should be free while you make your escape either with the Gauntlet and jetpacks or even by a shuttle in one of the hangars. The main launch bays will be locked down while the ship is tethered. The main bulk of starfighters won’t be able to launch.”

Rafa moved unexpectedly, sliding close to a produce box Trace had bought with the remainder of their credits on Kijimi and plucked a meiloorun fruit. She offers Trace another, handing it to her before cautiously approaching the hologram table without permission. “Won’t blasting the primary thrusters and putting the ship on high alert make it harder to sneak around inside?” She asked, following the strategy soundly up until this point but perhaps misunderstanding why Ahsoka was suggesting to make the operation harder. Still, Rafa revelled in how interested the Togruta was looking about the strategy, devoting all she had left to it and helping it along. Ursa no doubt was feeling the same about the former-Jedi; Rafa could tell the Mandalorian was pushing her along when seeing the look in the older woman’s eye.

“Actually it’ll work the opposite – attention will be drawn away from the detention block until they can figure out the Mandalorians are going after Bo-Katan. If it was Admiral Tarkin involved it would be a different story, but I know Yularen, he’s not used to Mandalorian tactics yet,” the bold and unorthodox Force-sensitive smiled. If Anakin were present he would applaud her for invoking the deceptive nature of his old master’s strategy, and even she could tell how much she had really learned from Obi-Wan second-handed. 

“How can you be sure, Lady Tano?” The same background Mandalorian asked, tilted his helmet.

“I trust Ahsoka’s judgement as Lady Bo-Katan would,” Ursa excused her comrade. “Your presence and assistance was invaluable to us during the siege, I cannot discredit you here and now, Ahsoka, but I simply must ask again for your help on this mission – without you it will surely fail,” she repeated, her expression turning from pleased to grave. Ahsoka sensed Rafa observing the pair of them with piqued interest and observation; the older Martez seemed truly invested in this conversation to a dangerous degree, and not one the Togruta seemed happy about at present. She relaxed into Trace’s embrace again, but felt her lover too a little perturbed against her refusal. Through the Force she could feel all of her companion’s emotions swimming around in a current more unstable and passionate than her older sister. Rafa certainly felt more collected but devoted. “And without Bo-Katan, Mandalore is doomed to this new Empire.”

Ahsoka looked away from Ursa Wren’s inquisitive eyes, reaching for and holding Trace’s wrist around her collarbone protectively – she quickly exchanged looks with Rafa, sensing the older girl’s inclination toward the Mandalorians. The older Martez bit into the meiloorun with sharp jaws and an eager appetite, sending her answer to Ahsoka through the silence suddenly gripping the room. The Togruta leaned back, trying to find an escape route in holding Trace close at her flank, but their bond within the Force she couldn’t find the camaraderie she was looking for.

Truly, both sisters wanted to help, wanted Ahsoka to do the same.

“Could you give me a moment with Trace and Rafa?” She asked the Mandalorian coterie, Ursa smiling and nodding before taking her leave with the two men who flanked her.

Rafa almost glared at the younger couple, her frilly fringe making her look oddly menacing with the dark circles of makeup surrounding her powerful eyes. If she was any smarter, Ahsoka might have been perturbed against the older Martez, cautious of how she would use her silver tongue and sharp mind. In times such as these however, the Togruta was happy to have her on side. “If you ask me, I think we should do this, and not because I think we’d get paid for it, but because they’re asking for your help – they’re asking for _our_ help,” she told Ahsoka matter-of-factly, with almost nobility behind her voice. The former-Jedi could tell her lover’s sister already burning with a fire that would spark rebellion against Sidious’s rule. “Having said that, I’ll go along with whatever the two of you decide.”

“Why the two of us?” Trace countered her older sister, genuinely surprised by the dramatic change in her personality.

Rafa tore through another segment of her meiloorun with her white teeth and wiped the juices from her chops. “Because that’s why Ahsoka hasn’t said yes already...” She put to her sister, before dropping the crest and cap of the meiloorun fruit onto the counter she was near and left the room the same way Ursa had led the Mandalorians. Ahsoka could sense her mind lingering, wanting to continue with more to say – she had felt the same way before, called out by Master Yoda.

She darted from her chair after Rafa, catching her in the corridor with the door sealing behind them and gripping the older girl’s hand before she could escape. “Rafa...” Ahsoka called, scared she was losing her grip on reality suddenly, stretched between her loyalty to Bo-Katan her former mentor and her lover, Trace.

The older Martez stopped with Ahsoka’s orange fingers gripping her wrist, a sudden burning inside of her. She spun on her heels as the alien tried to explain, lurching forward and kissing Ahsoka shockingly and quickly on her plump and beautiful lips. It all happened in a flash, Rafa barely able to linger or savour the same taste she’d developed a hunger for from their performative exchange. She simply indulged her inner most desire, reaching out with her lips and taking what she wanted, not thinking about the consequences for her actions. They came swifter than her decision to kiss – Ahsoka pulled away all at once and her hand reached around like a bolt of lightning striking Rafa across her cheek harder than a turbolaser.

Her consequences landed with the slap. “I deserved that,” she admitted, the smooth-talking mystique of her aura fading completely and the true Rafa breaking through. Ahsoka had known she was more vulnerable than had ever let on to either of them – now, adrift in the aftermath of Empire Day, Ahsoka was seeing the twisted and desperate mind of Rafa Martez.

“I told you not to put me in that situation again,” Ahsoka berated her, still shocked by the kiss. She touched her lips, the texture of Rafa’s stamped on them from before and now.

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka...”

The alien reached forward, grabbing the older sister by her loose collar and just as quickly as Rafa had, planted her lips on the older woman’s, making sure to discern the taste quickly and give the rogue what she wanted. Rafa’s hands timidly moved t Ahsoka’s shoulders, cupping them in the moments she had to savour the feeling again – she had wanted this again so much, so much better since the fake kiss they’d shared in the cantina. Now this at least felt real, on what level, Rafa could not discern, nor did she really care. All that mattered in the split second she could think was that Ahsoka Tano was kissing her back and she had the excuse to fall in love with it and with her. This didn’t take away from Trace, this wasn’t Ahsoka choosing the older sister over the younger. This was something else and lesser, but Rafa could handle that, she could deal with being lower on the totem pole; she couldn’t even remember what had sparked her attraction to the Togruta in the first place. Perhaps it was seeing her use the Force for the first time on Oba Diah.

“I love Trace...” Ahsoka confessed, breaking off and still holding Rafa at her loose collar.

“I know,” Rafa accepted.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you too, Rafa. That’s why I can’t help Ursa.”

Rafa shook her head, taking Ahsoka’s wrists and moving her hands back to her sides slowly. “Trace will follow you against the Empire, and I will too, all you have to do is ask even if you don’t feel like you can, Ahsoka. She didn’t think you were coming back after you left with the Mandos... now neither of us want to be out here without you.”

“This is why...”

“This is why we want to help them with you,” Rafa told her. “We can be there to pick you all up after you spring your friend, the _Silver Angel_ won’t attract the attention the Mandalorians’ Gauntlet would...” She huffed, stopping mid-thought and simply wrapping her arms around the former-Jedi, sensing they were both tired. “Talk through it with Trace, and at least think about it,” Rafa breathed, burying her face into the crook of the young woman’s neck, feeling the soft smoothness of her lekku gracing her own light-brown skin. “They really need your help. Bo-Katan needs your help...”

* * *

Ursa sprang to her feet along with Rafa when Ahsoka and Trace revealed themselves from the common room again, the pilot and mechanic latching onto her former-Jedi’s hand gingerly but famously as they approached. Ahsoka shot a thankful look to Rafa and nodded blissfully, inspiring the older sister. Rafa clenched her fists in tight victory and excitement. They were not only going to Mandalore, but she would finally have a chance to try out combat for the first time. “We’ll need to equip the _Silver Angel_ with some weapon systems and advanced shielding in case we catch some flak from the Venator during the escape run,” Ahsoka told Ursa. “We have to keep them safe,” she alluded to both Trace and her sister, clutching the former’s hand tightly and protectively once again. “If Yularen does release from the docks, we’ll have to speed up our run out of the system before he can mobilise and cut us off.”

“My attack group can cut through their fighters faster than they can mobilise more if the Admiral does rally his cruiser in enough time,” Fenn Rau spoke from the hatch to the entry ramp. Ahsoka nodded, greeting him for the first time – even as varied as most Mandalorians were from one another, Fenn Rau’s helmet was of a bespoke design oddly less angular and square compared to even Ursa’s helm (of which reminded Ahsoka of a Loth Cat given the spokes the older woman used as catlike ears atop the crown). “You’ll have ample fighter support while you blast your way in and out of the cruiser. But I agree in that we should equip the freighter - my men will bring supplies over from out moon base and complete the alterations in the night."

Ursa strode to the former-Jedi, offering her arm again, and Ahsoka took it. “Then we are in agreement,” the noble Mandalorian woman declared. “It would be an honour to fight alongside you once again.”

“Can I offer a suggestion?” Rafa soon interjected, Ursa looking as if she wanted to hear what the young woman had to say. “If you’re scared about the cruiser coming online... why not sabotage the main guns while Ahsoka heads to the detention centre and busts out Bo-Katan?”

“An interesting suggestion, and not one I am likely to disagree with, but it is Ahsoka’s strategy at this point,” Ursa differed.

Ahsoka nodded, liking the plan and filling Rafa with valid affirmation as she fisted the air in elation. She really had been listening, learning the whole thing as the two women had talked it through and the older Martez now demonstrated how well her tactile young mind had really developed. She reached forward and hugged Ahsoka in thanks. “There’s just one more thing,” Ahsoka told Ursa, her hands empty to make a point. 

“I’m without my lightsabers this time, and I’m useless with a blaster – if I run into trouble at the detention block, it’ll be harder to free Bo-Katan...”

Ursa Wren gave another smile, setting down her helmet on another countertop and signalling one of her bannermen to hand her something wrapped in honorary Mandalorian cloth. It was brandished and embroidered with the sigil of House Vizsla, and co-signed with the seal of the Office of Duchess of Mandalore, both signets that Ahsoka was familiar with having met both Pre and Satine. Ursa handled it with more care than Ahsoka had seen almost any Mandalorian handle anything before; she looked at the cloth with almost reverence when holding it in both opened palms to offer to the former-Jedi.

“We recovered this from Maul’s effects hidden throughout the city,” Wren explained, unravelling the woven shawl and letting the angular and sleek shape show under the fabric. “Before Lady Bo-Katan was taken into custody she instructed me to deliver it to you, sensing you may need it if you agreed to help. It has been passed down within Mandalorian society since it was liberated from your kind at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant..”

“The Jedi Temple?” Ahsoka echoed in disbelief.

Ursa unveiled the artefact underneath the cloth, Ahsoka recognising the shape of the design to mimic closely that of a lightsaber hilt, although intrinsically of a certain Mandalorian design given their culture. She took it timidly when handed it, sensing its importance both with the Mandalorians and with the Force as it surrounded her. This weapon had seen more and been through more than Ahsoka could understand. Hands had changed with it so many times it held no fervent loyalty to its wielder, she could sense it was timeless, unmoving, ritualistic and never-ending. She felt intimidated by it, almost wanting to run and hide away from its presence, but at the same time, enthralled by its majesty and willingness to her as she held it firmly in both hands.

Ahsoka flicked its switch, knowing what it was before the blade ignited – it was not a lightsaber, not as she knew it. The solid black blade sprang from the hilt with a paracausal sound that both inspired and startled both her and Trace behind her.

“It is said that whoever wields the Darksaber holds the key to Mandalore’s future,” Ursa told them all as Ahsoka lost herself in the dark glow of the weapon’s umbra and black majesty. “Bo-Katan lends it to her saviour, Ahsoka Tano...”

“Then let’s go set her free with it.”


End file.
